O Mr. Chamberlain,
your cousin Richard is a far better actor
a premature elder statesman
of the Gamecock variety
wishing to meet Piggles
when the ham is on your mirror
soldier of poetry, champion of hybridism
send my regards to your child bride
You’re welcome, Stu:
I’d call you an epigone
but you ape Bukowski
and, well, when Capote
said Kerouac was typing,
Bukowski was drinking
and then puking.
You licked the vomit
from his bare feet,
from between his toes
like a soup strainer,
and called it love.
But—you’re more of a
thick-soup guy, right?
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1 comment:
Stu...when you read this, I thought the last line in your stanza was "semi-regards to your child bride" and I almost like that better. Think about it.
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